


wear back the crown (love silently)

by try_reset (technorat)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Developing Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post TLJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-02-28 11:00:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13270050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/technorat/pseuds/try_reset
Summary: First Order High Command suggests for Supreme Leader Kylo Ren to marry, to show his devotion to the cause.Hux accepts, obligingly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to ee-void on tumblr who beta'd this for me! thank you so much :D
> 
> I've been wanting to write an arranged marriage fic for a while, and now here it is. I want to say this is medium kylux, but everything I write ends up fairly soft.
> 
> warning: Medbay is visited, injuries are described but nothing too graphic.

“Sir,” an officer says, daring to approach where he broods on the bridge. She holds a datapad tight against her. Cringing slightly, she holds it out to her Supreme Leader. “The High Council wishes to have a meeting with you.”

Ren takes it, scowling at the screen. “Surely this is a mistake,” he mutters. The High Council had only ever contacted Hux before. Maybe they didn’t need the rat anymore, with Ren at the First Order’s helm.

The officer swallows, her nervousness filling the air with a buzzing sound. She taps the top of the screen. “But Supreme Leader, it is addressed for you.”

And it is.

Att: Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren. 

He frowns, pacing with the datapad in hand. He… cannot deny whatever their request is, can he? He is no longer under Snoke’s protection and the banner of what the First Order must perceive as mysticism.

“Sir?” the officer says.

“What?” Ren barks.

She folds her hands behind her back. “Am I needed further or may I be dismissed?”

Ren waves her off, hating the formalities of the structure he now heads. He opens the transmission:

 

_Supreme Leader Ren._

_We of the First Order High Council look forwards to pursuing our goal together. We think it would be for the good of the First Order for us to hold a meeting together and discuss our shared future._

_Please contact us through this channel at your earliest convenience._

 

Earliest convenience, Ren snorts. Knowing those assholes, what they really mean is immediately. 

He sighs. “Mitaka. You have the Bridge.”

The mousy Lieutenant looks up from his console, clearly close to a panic at being spoken at by Kylo Ren.

He doesn’t find it within himself to care.

*

The Holo-Conference room aboard the Finalizer is suspiciously empty. Like the crew had known. Ren grinds his teeth as the door slides shut behind him.

He types in the com signal and holograms flicker to life.

So they had been waiting.

All of the First Order’s High Command are old, weak men who have grown grey with age, bodies either softening or diminishing. All of them think themselves worthy of the Supreme Leader’s attentions, all of them think of themselves better, however quietly.

“Supreme Leader,” the man in the middle says. The bars around his wrist mark him as a Grand Admiral. Ren hasn’t a faintest clue what his name could possibly be. That’s more Hux’s specialty. Knowing unimportant shit. “I am glad to see you’ve received our missive. This is a rather urgent matter, I’m afraid.”

Ren quirks a brow. How urgent could it be if it isn’t about the remnants of the Resistance and any leads on them?

The Grand Admiral coughs into the crook of his elbow before continuing. “We pledge our loyalty to you as our leader, of course.” Ren can feel the wavering uncertainty of the statement even through the distance between them. “That is not the issue here.”

“What is it then?” Ren says. “I am growing quite tired waiting for you to get to that, Admiral.”

The man stutters at the lessening of his rank, cheeks coloring sharply.

Another steps in where the Grand Admiral had faltered. “We worry about the image of the First Order and how others may perceive you.”

He grinds his teeth. Of course they do. “And? Why would I be questioned?”

“Your parentage, sir,” says the man quickly. And, not allowing himself to be cut off, he continues. “Others may question your loyalty to the Order. We seek to remedy this as quickly as we can through an age-old custom that will surely show to the galaxy your devotion to the cause.”

Another man in love with his voice. Ren’s hand twitches with the urge to choke him.

“And this solution would be—“

“Marriage.”

The High Command officers pause, as if waiting for an outburst from Ren.

“Marriage,” he repeats, words leaving his mouth with a growl. His lips fix in a sneer.

The smallest of the officers pulls off his cap and holds it to his narrow chest. “A woman originating to a family rooted in the Order and the Empire before it would ease public tensions and would be generally good for the First Order’s image,” he says quickly, as if this is the only chance he will get to speak. “My daughter Agede is both a lieutenant and very single.”

Ren raises a brow. How could one be ‘very single?’ How does it differ from just single?

“A-ah,” a different officer says, startling to life. “My daughter Rosanna is also quite available for such an engagement. She is on the medical tract—“

The officers squabble, offering their young, devoted daughters as easily as H— a gambler in a casino.

It’s disgraceful. As if their children aren’t human beings with their own ambitions and interests and—

Pfsssk.

Things line up then.

A child of High Command to wed the new Supreme Leader. And to spy on him and poison him if necessary.

“I’ll marry, if that is what’s best for the Order,” Ren says. “But I will choose my spouse.”

The squabbling ceases. Finally.

“Oh, truly?” One says. They’re all the same, mindlessly boring, with only their own interests in mind. “Well… do we know her? When can we expect—”

“Our wedding will be broadcast to the Galaxy. All will know of our union and the strength of the First Order,” Ren says stiffly. He shuts off the com channel.

The five pale faces flicker off.

Ren sighs, rubbing a gloved hand over his face.

Who knew how tedious being the Supreme Leader could be?

Marriage. The word sounds bad even in his head. Like an end.

He can work with High Command’s demands. He knows a certain someone who would not spy on him and is quite definitely ‘very single.’

*

Hux.

Of course it’d be Hux.

Ren rounds onto the Bridge with a single-minded determination: find Hux. He’ll know, he’ll understand. He always does.

All the officers are at their stations, numbers and data flowing through their capped skulls. Manning the Bridge is one Lieutenant Mitaka. No Hux. Mitaka doesn’t even come close.

Ren approaches, a twinge of a headache worming its way inside his brain. “Lieutenant,” he all but growls.

Mitaka swallows audibly, what little color he had in his face draining out. “Yes sir?” he says, saluting like his life depends on it.

“Where is Hux?”

Mitaka’s lips part but no sound leaves them. He grows paler, if that is even possible. “General Hux, sir, is currently in medical. He... lost consciousness last shift,” he says.

Ren’s world grinds to a halt. Hux? Miss an opportunity to be on his beloved Bridge? How sick was he? When did he even have the opportunity to catch ill? “Very well,” he says with a sharp jerk of his chin. “You may continue.”

Mitaka salutes him as he leaves, knees knocking underneath him.

Ren leaves the Bridge and the hive mind of officers behind, breathing in cool, recycled air of the long halls of the Finalizer. He takes a moment to center himself, to rip himself away from all of the buzzing minds just behind him, before continuing on his warpath, this time heading to the Medbay, three decks above.

Marching Stormtroopers salute before continuing on their way. Officers nod nervously. A droid skitters by, beeping a tad more panic-strikenly.

People frantically avoid being shut in an elevator with him, panic souring the little air is within the lift.

The ride is short, silent, stifling, all of him thinks of the High Command and their expectations, of marriage, of Hux.

A loveless marriage, only kept for appearances.

Nothing out of the ordinary then.

*

“Supreme Leader,” a medic in sterile scrubs says, standing at full attention when Ren sweeps in. He steps in front of his console, almost protectively, unease seeping from him. “What can I do for you?”

“Where is Hux?”

The place stinks of pain, misery, and bacta. He hates it. Ren swallows, focusing on stark white walls instead.

The medic’s eyes widen. He thinks Ren will kill Hux. As if he would kill the only competent man, as if he would kill the only person whose name was worth knowing. “S-sir.”

“Did I hesitate?” Ren snarls. Something crackles in the air.

The medic grows pale. “Right this way, sir,” he says, voice stiff with terror. He walks as fast as his short stumpy legs will carry him. A quick scan of his mind tells Ren his name: Medical Officer Keefe. A man with a wife and three children living on some cozy planet’s surface. A man who fears for their survival if Ren casually decided to kill him.

Ren snorts.

That only serves to have him move quicker. Good for Ren’s quickly draining patience.

“Here, sir,” Medical Officer Keefe says, opening the door for him. “General Hux, the Supreme Leader is here to see you.”

Ren steps into the room, door sliding shut behind you.

Hux is awake, propped up in the thin cot they call a bed. Sheets are draped across his lap, needles prick into his arms, fluids held up in stands. He wears a medical gown, a cool blue-green against pale, bruised skin. His hair lies limply across his forehead. And despite all of the chaos, his eyes burn.

“Supreme Leader,” Hux clips. “How may I help you? As you may have noticed, I am a bit preoccupied at the moment.” He holds up an arm, IVs taped to his inner elbow.

“Marry me,” Ren says, wetting his lips.

Hux… short-circuits. “What?” he sputters. “Supreme Leader, I believe you’ve injured yourself somehow. This is—“ He reaches for a device, a singular button at its center, to call a medic to the room.

Ren reaches out, plucking the device from Hux’s fingers with the Force. He tosses it out of Hux’s range.

Hux frowns.

“High Command wants me to look… more loyal to the cause. So they want me to marry someone with family ties,” Ren says.

Hux’s features twitch. “And they chose… me? That is terribly unlikely, sir.” The skin around his mouth creases with distaste. “Which of their children did they try to pin onto you?”

Ren pinches the bridge of his nose—a gesture he, annoyingly, learned from Hux. “It seemed like they tried to pin all of their daughters on me.”

Hux hums. He moves the pillows behind him, lying down slowly. He makes himself comfortable, not facing Ren. “I’ve heard that Medical Officer Rosanna is a charmer,” he offers. “Why not take her hand? You’ll find yourself with Force wielding spawn as well, no doubt.”

Ren grits his teeth. “If I wanted to marry her, I would have agreed to her father’s stupidity.”

“Let me guess,” Hux says airily. “You think the High Command is choosing women with direct links to them so that they may spy on and try to sway their new, volatile  Supreme Leader and even try to poison him if he goes too far?”

Ren’s mouth goes dry.

Hux shrugs slightly. “You may have your suspicions in the right places. They are a bunch of slimy bastards.”

The irony of that statement doesn’t go past Ren.

“But why marry me then? Don’t you think the same of me?” Hux says. “I’d be offended if you didn’t think me capable of putting a knife through your back after everything you’ve put me through.” The bruises look more stark against such thin, white skin. Hux looks like a doll, discarded by its child.

Ren stumbles back, buffeted by the force of Hux’s emotions.

Thick, drowning anger. Resentment. Pain. And, above all… betrayal.

He swallows. “Better to choose the evil you know.”

Hux chuckles. “Funny. I don’t think I know you at all.”

It must be the painkillers dripping into him making him so bold. Far too many IVs feed into him to just be painkillers.

Ren points at them. “What are they giving you?”

Hux snorts. “Look at my medical files, if you really care, Supreme Leader.”

Truly, he should be punished for speaking to his superior in such a way. But Ren needs him—needs him to run the stupid bureaucratic necessities that drive him crazy, needs him to be his spouse and to show his loyalty to their shared cause.

Ren approaches the cot, picking up the medical datapad seated at the foot of Hux’s bed. As he lifts it up, Hux’s diagnostics light up. Ren nearly drops the datapad at the sheer length of the list of maladies.

Malnutrition, dehydration, exhaustion, extensive bruising, broken ribs, damaged vocal chords, internal bleeding— 

The bruising wrapped around Hux’s throat is a shadowy image of Ren’s hand. He sits, beside Hux’s cocooned form. “This is a very long list,” Ren remarks.

Hux snorts. Idiot, he thinks. You were the cause for most. 

Ren cannot find the words to respond to that.

He’s… hurt Hux. Who is more human underneath his padded greatcoat. Who is a slip of a man. Delicate.

Who he needs to cooperate with for everything to work according to plan.

“Will you marry me?” Ren repeats.

“Is that an order?”

Ren hears it now, the gravely, weakened nature to Hux’s voice. Like it hurts to speak.

“No,” Ren says after a heartbeat. “Not an order.”

Hux sighs, hating himself. “Forgive me for sounding rude, Supreme Leader, but what do I gain from such a partnership? A marriage would improve your social standing with the Order and ensure your loyalty.” He wets his lips, trembling all over. Ren feels it. The rush of adrenaline going through him.

“What do you want?” Ren asks.

Hux wets his lips again. They’re cracked and reddened. He’s been doing this for a while. “I want you to never, ever lay a hand on me again with the Force.” It comes out in a rush, like he’s waited forever to say just that.

Ren had expected a promotion. A title. Power.

Not that.

“Of course,” Ren says a little hoarsely. “Anything else?”

Hux nods into his pillow. “Don’t humiliate me in front of the crew. Pretend that you respect me, even if just for public appearances. That’s just as much for me as it is for you. The First Order wouldn’t trust you if you degraded your spouse in that way.”

Still no demands for a promotion, no higher ranking.

Ren frowns. “That’s… easily done.”

“Is it?” Hux says sharply. “From you? Forgive me for having my doubts.”

Ren shakes his head, pushing away the flaring anger. It’s like Hux wants him to snap. “When will you be released from medical? I’d like to plan our wedding ceremony accordingly.”

“Three cycles,” Hux says. “Leave an extra cycle for arrangements to be finalized, Supreme Leader. Who are you thinking of having officiate the wedding?”

“Do you have any preference?”

“Phasma. She’s ranked high enough to do so—“

“Phasma is dead.”

Hux sits up. Half of his hair sits up in a funny, almost endearing way. “No,” he breathes. His red, irritated eyes water for the second time in too few cycles.

“I’m… sorry,” Ren manages, not feeling adequate in the slightest. He hadn't thought Hux capable of such grief. Ren drowns in his sorrow. “I know how much she meant to you.”

Friends. The closest person Hux could call a friend.

Hux presses his knees to his chest, pressing his palms against his eyes. His heartbeat elevates, reflected in the monitors. His shoulders shake. He’s… he’s crying, Ren realizes with a jolt. He hadn’t thought Hux capable of that either.

“Hux,” Ren says, placing a gloved hand on a narrow shoulder. He can feel the bone underneath when he squeezes in what he hopes is a comforting manner. “I’m sorry for your loss. Captain Phasma was a good warrior. One of the finest.”

“Leave,” Hux chokes out.

Ren listens, for once.

*

Nar Shaddaa lies in the Outer Rim. A planet of criminals—smugglers, bounty hunters, low lifes. How often young Ben Solo had seen the moon when Han Solo failed in his parenting. And it had exactly what he needed.

The ysalamir was a small, skittish thing within its cage. The runt. Ginger.

The perfect wedding gift for his future spouse.

The shopkeep—a lowly smuggler himself—quakes in his boots, even as Ren transfers the credits he is owed. The Stormtroopers surrounding him did make quite a sight.

“FN-9823, you’re to carry the cage,” Ren says, as the shopkeep pushes the ysalamir forwards. He doesn’t want to touch it, doesn’t want to be near it. But it would be a reassurance for Hux, that nothing unforward would happen to him in their marriage quarters.

“Yes sir,” the Stormtrooper says, lifting the cage by its handle. He takes the back of the squadron, either consciously or unconsciously keeping the Force-repelling lizard far from Ren. Good.

Ren leads them through the grimy streets, back the way they came. Back to the ship that will return them to Finalizer.

If only organizing the wedding would be as easy as acquiring the ysalamir.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you once again to ee-void for beta-ing this chapter!
> 
> no major warnings this chapter
> 
> I've made a moodboard for this fic, which can be found at:  
> http://gaygalaxyguy.tumblr.com/post/169362755012/wear-back-the-crown-love-silently-first-order

There is a shocking amount of paperwork involved when one wishes to get married. Ren frowns, his eyes itching already. He’d started them alone, hoping to get a little out of the way before Hux arrived to his rooms.

The ysalamir hisses underneath the desk. It sulks within its cage, ignoring the colorful array of fruit Ren had placed within its range.

“What do you want?” he growls to the creature.

It blinks slowly, tongue flickering out.

The door to his room slides open, a code being pressed to the reader outside.

Hux. In full uniform, his collar left unbuttoned, a sliver of purpled skin visible.

Ren stands, abandoning his datapad with its many forms on his couch. “Hux. Are you… fit to be standing?”

“Fit to get this part over with, sir,” Hux mutters. Despite the cycles of rest and treatment, he is still looking worse for wear. The skin underneath his eyes almost looks bruised in the harsh electric light of Ren’s chambers. They’re reddened and irritated too. Puffy. He brushes past Ren and seats himself on the couch, taking the datapad into his hands and quickly typing on the form.

Ren watches him, the slope of his neck, bruises visible from underneath his collar.

“Supreme Leader, have you put in an order for the ceremonial clothing yet?” Hux asks, looking up from the datapad.

Hux’s eyes are watery, and so very green.

Ren coughs, looking away. “No, not yet.”

Hux sighs slightly. “And yet you have the time to acquire a pet?”

Ren walks over to the desk, pulling the cage out from under it and picking it up. The orange ysalamir hisses its displeasure. “This is for you,” he says, placing it before Hux.

Hux’s features twitch: a frown, quickly hidden by a carefully neutral expression. “Ah,” he says dryly. “Thank you for the… lizard.”

“That is a wedding gift. Part of fulfilling my promise to you,” Ren says, opening the cage and picking the slippery thing up. He places the animal in Hux’s lap.

Hux almost leaps to his feet at that, discomfort written plainly on his face. “Supreme Leader, this is not necessary. Thank you for the pet, but—“

Ren holds up a hand. “It is a ysalamir.”

Hux’s brows raise. He recognizes that name at least. “A ysalamir. Where did you procure one of those? I thought they were quite attached to their trees.”

“I have my methods,” Ren says. Those methods being passed down from hi— Ben Solo’s father and entirely dishonorable. “I will not lay a hand against you,” he promises, as much to himself as to Hux. “This is just so you feel safe.”

The ysalamir tries to find claw holds in Hux’s shirt, clambering partway up to his narrow shoulders. He touches it gingerly, more gently than Ren has seen Hux do anything in his life. Within the ysalamir’s bubble, Ren can’t feel the Force surrounding them, can’t feel the emotions Hux gives off.

“What’s her name?” Hux asks.

“That’s for you to decide.” Ren leans forwards, taking the discarded datapad and continuing where Hux had left off. Not much was left. “Who will officiate?”

“I haven’t asked just yet, but I assume Lieutenant Mitaka would be honored.” Hux strokes the top of the ysalamir’s head, as if it is a hairless cat. Ren thinks he genuinely likes the lizard, even with its claws prodding Hux’s soft belly.

Ren nods. “That’s done,” he says, sending the form. “What’s left for us to do?”

*

Hux is dedicated and a perfectionist in all things, Ren quickly realizes. Arrangements for the ceremony are finished within the hour. The forms are complete, with Mitaka to act as the head of ceremony during the mostly theatrical wedding in the next cycle. Clothing has been ordered, tailored to fit them.

“There,” he says, after sending the last of the instructions. “All nonessential crew will attend the wedding. It’ll be held in your throne room and broadcast to the Galaxy, Supreme Leader.”

Ren nods. “Thank you,” he manages. 

“Of course, sir.”

“Ren,” he says.

Hux blinks, taken aback.

“I want you to call me by my name,” Ren says. “If we are to be married, I want us to be equals in that regard, at least.”

He nods. “Very well, Ren.”

Hux takes the ysalamir and its cage with him when he leaves.

Ren stares at his ungloved hands, the Force returning to him. He can’t reach out—can’t feel Hux, even though he’s just outside his room.

It’s for the best.

*

The throne room is a hastily put together thing on the Finalizer, after the loss of the Supremacy. Materials had been salvaged from the Supremacy to help aid in the First Order’s efforts, but Ren is glad to have a throne not stained with Snoke’s blood.

“Sir,” Mitaka says, dressed in his finest formal uniform. “This way, if you’d please.” He leads Ren to the right of the throne, on a platform. “You don’t need to say anything but the proper responses to my questions when prompted, sir.”

“I know.” Ren huffs.

Mitaka takes him for an idiot. Both an idiot and a  _ monster _ . He fears for Hux. The rumors of Ren tossing Hux around with the Force during the Battle of Crait flash through his head.

Ren has half a mind to rid him of those idle thoughts.

The main door to the throne room opens, Hux entering, flanked on either side by officers.

Ren’s world narrows. He steps forwards, meeting Hux halfway to the platform.

Hux wears a long, red robe. One that has a high, collared neck, hiding all evidence of bruising. “Ren,” he greets, with a slight incline of his head. His hair has been swept forwards. 

“Hux,” Ren greets in turn. He can feel Hux’s apprehension, the chill along his skin. “Prepared?”

Hux’s eyes sweep Ren’s form, settling on his shoulders. “The garments suit you well,” he admits, grudgingly enough.

Ren wears a black, fitted uniform, something similar to Hux’s typical attire, with stars joining the bars around his arm. “Why are you in robes? You look like a Praetorian Guard.”

Hux raises a brow. “It’s traditional for the one of lesser rank to wear a red robe, symbolizing—“

Ah. A lecture. Ren could do without one of those.

“Forget I even brought it up.”

Other officers file in. Stormtroopers in polished armor. Mechanics. Technicians. Engineers.

“Looks like we’re nearly ready to begin,” marks Hux, leading them back up the platform. They stand before the throne, facing one another.

One of the technician rolls in a holorecorder. A wedding fit for the Galaxy’s eye.

Mitaka stands just behind them, separating them from the plush, black throne. “We are here to witness the union of Supreme Leader Kylo Ren and General Armitage Hux of the First Order.”

Ren doesn’t look away from Hux’s pale face. He wears a carefully neutral expression. Without the ysalamir there, Ren can feel the nerves. Distrust. 

Aching, where bruises still heal.

Officers thoughts come to him in bits and pieces.  _ Mitaka’s worry. A Captain’s jealousy, thinking that Hux is doing this for a promotion, just like the sycophant always does.  _

Opinions are split.

Mitaka says something, Ren doesn’t catch it.

“I do,” he says, in response.

Hux responds in turn.

“By the glory of the Order and the power it vests in me, you are joined in this unbreakable union,” Mitaka says. “You may now kiss.”

Ren places a gloved hand on Hux’s cheek, leaning in to press a kiss to Hux’s chapped lips. He’s warm, Ren thinks, tongue sliding across Hux’s lips. Warm despite standing as still as a statue.

As if hearing this, Hux reaches out, twining a hand in Ren’s hair, cradling his skull.

Ren can barely hear the polite clapping around them.

*

In Ren’s—no, their quarters, Hux unpacks his things. He still wears the robe, even hours later, a scowl on his features. He turns what used to be Ren’s meditation room into a bedroom of his own.

Ren watches.

Despite how thin Hux is, he never asks for help in moving and arranging his new room, doing everything by himself. 

A bed, a desk and a chair, a dresser, and a caf maker. And the cage in which the ysalamir sleeps. Hux squats, pushing it underneath his office desk.

The ysalamir stirs slightly, peering at Hux before closing her eyes and returning to sleep.

“Is that all?” Ren asks.

Hux straightens, running a hand through his hair and failing to hide a wince. “Just about, Supreme Leader.” He’s cordial, stiff. With the ysalamir so close to him, Ren can’t feel the emotions that surely leak from him.

“Call me Ren,” he says, for the second time in recent days.

Hux’s features twitch, but he acquiesces. “Very well… Ren.” He remains standing, hands folding behind him.

Silence stretches between them.

“Shouldn’t you be on the Bridge right about now?” Ren says. Hux watches him carefully, judging. Something flies over his head, clearly.

“Ren, I would like to remind you that we were just married,” Hux says slowly, as if he is speaking to an idiot.

Ren’s hands twitch. He balls them in fists, leather gloves creaking. “Yes, and…?”

Hux swallows, his lips pressing together in a fine line. “Typically, after the marriage ceremony, even for simply political purposes, the marriage is consummated.”

Consummation.

Sex.

Ren shakes his head. He hasn’t seen Hux naked, but he has no desire to do so either. Seeing him in a medical gown had been an uncomfortable reminder of Hux’s humanity. 

He had no need to be reminded of other human functions Hux was capable of.

“We don’t need to consummate this,” Ren manages, a second too late.

Hux… smiles, if the brief twitch of his lips could be called as such. “I had the same thought, but we need to make it as seem if this is a proper marriage, so I cannot appear on the Bridge so quickly.”

Ren snorts. 

Hux is ever the schemer. Nothing has changed.

“Where is your refresher?” Hux asks. He bends down again, unlatching the cage and pulling out the ysalamir.

The little ginger beast, it seems, has been leashed.

Ren points. “Next to the kitchen. What are you doing?”

Hux snorts. “Figures you’d have your own private food preparation area…” He walks to the refresher, the ysalamir hissing but going along.

“Why are you bringing the ysalamir with you?” Ren calls. 

Hux pauses, throwing a hateful look behind him. “Is she not to keep me safe from you?” he says. “She’s to make sure you don’t do anything unforward when I go to take a sonic.”

Ren grits his teeth. “You should trust me more than that.”

Hux doesn’t look away. His eyes grow a watery film. He blinks it away, brows pinching painfully. He pulls the robe open, letting it fall down a far too slender shoulder.

The bruises wrapped around Hux’s throat are still dark, still unmistakably Ren’s. And his shoulder… are practically black, fading as it spreads painfully down towards his ribs.

Bandages and bacta patches cover the worst of the bruises, down Hux’s bicep, continuing to his covered forearm, no doubt.

All of that was by Ren’s hand.

“Forgive me if I can’t quite trust you, Ren,” Hux says. He closes the robe and continues towards his destination. The refresher.

The door slides shut.

Ren sits on his couch. For a moment, he forgets to breathe.

*

At night, they sleep in separate beds.

That doesn’t surprise Ren, not in the slightest.

It is odd, he thinks, lying alone in bed. To know someone else is sharing quarters with him and not to feel their presence in the slightest is strange.

Ren pushes the blankets from his form and stands. “Lights, 20 percent.” The electricity responds quickly. The little light is a bother to his eyes. He leaves his bedroom and makes his way to the kitchen.

He could drink something. He has alcohol, gifted over the years from one officer or another dignitary. He may as well drink, toast to another cycle as the Supreme Leader.

The lights in his kitchen are on.

Hux sits at one of the two chairs, the ysalamir sprawled across his lap. He wears a rumpled set of standard issue pajamas, sleeves rolled up to reveal fresh bandages underneath. He holds a datapad, typing away with his free hand.

“Hux,” Ren says. “You’re awake.”

Hux’s head jerks up. He nearly drops the datapad. “Ren,” he greets. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You didn’t. I couldn’t sleep.” 

Hux’s eyes are cast in shadow. He doesn’t look like he’s slept much either.

“And you?” Ren asks.

Hux wets his lips. It doesn’t help. Ren can’t say if he’s nervous or not, the ysalamir blocking everything out. “I couldn’t sleep either. I thought it prudent to get an early start to—“

“When was the last time you slept?” Ren asks.

Hux swallows. “I assure you that—“

“When was the last time you slept?” Ren repeats, taking the seat across Hux. The alcohol could wait, at least for now.

Hux shuts his eyes. “The last time I slept the prescribed seven hours was before the Starkiller incident.”

Ren forgets to breathe for a moment. Starkiller’s destruction happened nine cycles ago. Hux hasn’t slept properly for nine cycles. What the  _ kriff _ ?

“Why are you doing this?” Ren doesn’t understand—can’t even begin to comprehend.

Hux raises a brow. He picks up a mug and sips from it slowly, as if to delay answering. 

Irrationally, it angers him.

The ysalamir hisses, wriggling on Hux’s lap.

“I don’t choose to forgo sleep,” Hux says. He puts down the mug carefully. A bitter stench wafts from it. Some of his disgusting tea, then. “With the many calamities, there wasn’t time for it.”

“There… wasn’t time for sleep,” Ren finds himself repeating, shaking his head. He doesn’t understand Hux at all. “Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

Hux doesn’t shrug, doesn’t try to argue. He falls silent, sipping at bitter, rapidly cooling tea. 

“Should I call for a medic?”

“No,” Hux says sharply, looking up at him. At the angle, it looks like he’s been given two black eyes, the dark circles around his eyes being so deep. 

“They could administer a stim—“

Hux waves a hand, dismissing the idea. “No.”

“And why not?” Ren grits, gripping the steel table. The metal bends underneath his hands.

Hux’s eyes flicker to the bent table warily. The ysalamir does the same, reacting negatively to Hux’s apparent nerves. “Because a stim would act negatively with all the painkillers I’ve been given.”

He frowns, feeling stupid.

“And how would alcohol react?”

“With the painkillers, you mean?”

A beat of silence.

“No, I should think not,” says Hux. He says it with false casualty. He wants to drink.

Ren decides to be an enabler this cycle. After all, they just got married. Why not toast to that?

He opens a cabinet and pulls out a deep blue bottle. “Get us some cups,” he says.

Hux rises to his feet, but not before gently placing the ysalamir on the ground. She hisses at the touch of cold tile and crawls along Hux’s footsteps, tangling herself between his ankles.

He places two glasses before Ren and Ren fills them with the deep violet drink. Like galaxies and stardust, the wine sparkles. A lovely gift from a faceless, unimportant person.

Hux picks up his glass as he returns to his seat, brow quirking. “Nabooian. An interesting choice, Ren.”

Ren scowls.

Hux presses his glass against Ren’s own. “To our marriage and to the glory of the First Order.”

“To our marriage and to the glory of the First Order,” Ren repeats, raising the glass to his lips and drinking deeply.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'd by ee-void once again !

The wine. It doesn’t taste bad. Hux refills his glass in quick succession. The ysalamir doesn’t seem too happy about that.

“Have you named it— her?” Ren asks.

Hux hums. His pupils are small pinpricks of dark against his blue-green-grey eyes. “Millicent,” he says. “It’s a noble name.”

Ren scrunches up his nose. “Why Millicent? That’s an old lady’s name.”

“Do you have a better name to suggest?” Hux says with a sneer. It’s almost like the good old days of them snarling and sniping at one another under Snoke, like the days when Hux did not fear Ren.

If one could ignore the copious amounts of alcohol Hux ingested.

“No.”

Hux looks triumphant, even with his injuries on full display. “Then you can keep quiet. You gave me her.” He downs another gulp of the wine.

Ren pulls the bottle away. Perhaps Hux is a lightweight in actuality. Perhaps he’ll give his new husband alcohol poisoning by accident.

Hux reaches out, snagging the bottle by the neck. He pulls it from Ren’s weak grip and refills his glass.

“I think that’s enough drink for you,” he says, somewhat amused by the picture. What would Hux’s subordinates think of the general now?

Hux shakes his head. “Dear husband, I think I know my limits.”

Ren extends his arm, meaning to take back the bottle and hide it somewhere.

Millicent the ysalamir hisses, displeased by the motion.

Ren huffs. “She loves you already, it seems.”

Hux sniffs. “She doesn’t have any reason to trust  _ you, _ ” he says.

Ren leans his cheek on his fist. He’s had quite enough to drink for tonight. Instead, he can watch Hux: hair falling across his forehead, eyes half-closed with exhaustion, shoulders free of their layers of padding, hidden within shirts and jackets. The most human he’s ever seen the man.

It’s entrancing.

“Well, I hope you both come to trust me. Eventually,” Ren says.

“What a thing to hope for,” Hux mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t trust you.” His words slur together, but he drinks more, greedily gulping down the wine. “But you’re not the first person I loved that hurt me.”

_ Person I loved. _

_ Loved. _

What the kriff? 

“What do you mean?” Ren asks.

Hux laughs, covering his mouth. “Mother never wanted me. Father beat me. Rae Sloane died. Snoke beat me. And then you.” He laughs again, eyes watering.

Ren’s stomach churns.

Hux will regret all of this in the morning.

But.

“You don’t love me,” he says.

Hux’s eyes flicker from the center of Ren’s forehead to his shoulders then back up to his lips. “No,” he finally says. “Not anymore.”

Ren leans back, taking a glance at the chronometer. Alpha shift grows near. “Hux,” he says, not bothering to reach out. It’d only put Hux and Millicent in a greater sense of unease.

The last thing he wants for his reluctant ally.

“You should try to get some sleep while you can.”

Hux’s face twitches.

He doesn’t like orders. Never has.

“I’m going to sleep too,” Ren says, standing first. He doesn’t look behind him when he walks away. He’s too busy thinking.

*

When Ren wakes, Hux has already left their rooms. 

He takes a quick sonic, head pounding. He hadn’t had  _ that _ much to drink last night. It makes him wonder how Hux feels.

Feels.

Ren rubs a hand over his face. Hux was in love with him, emphasis on the  _ was. _ How had he never noticed? Even if Hux was generally terrible at displaying his basic emotions and humanity…

He eats, barely tasting the nutrition bar as it goes down his throat, and dresses, pulling a cape over his shoulders.

On the Bridge, the officers jerk to attention. The hive mind startles at Ren’s appearance. They salute and greet him properly, just as they should.

Hux stands at attention, Millicent draped over his shoulders. He turns at the commotion, meeting Ren’s gaze. His expression is unreadable and, with his hair slicked back and under-eye circles concealed, it’s almost as if last night never even happened.

“Supreme Leader,” Hux says, saluting.

“At ease,” Ren says. He approaches slowly. Light from a nearby star filters in through transparisteel windows, transforming Hux’s hair into a halo of flame.

“Supreme Leader,” Hux says, pulling out a datapad. “I am glad you have joined us right now. Here. There are some reports and requests for you to review and approve.” He hands it to Ren.

Ren takes it. Gingerly.

He never saw Snoke do something as mundane as approving requests. 

_ Request for additional funding— _

_ Update on Canto Bight— _

_ Request for relocation of troops— _

_ Report 0734: Retrieval of monetary resources— _

_ Request— _

His head spins at it all.

“General. A word?” Ren says, jerking his chin in the direction of Hux’s office.

“Of course, Supreme Leader,” Hux says. “Lieutenant Mitaka, the Bridge is yours.”

Mitaka nods. “Right,” he says weakly, standing to take his position.

Ren brushes past him, bumping shoulders with the smaller man. He follows Hux into his office, shutting it behind them.

“What is it Ren?” Hux asks. Millicent opens her eyes, focusing on Ren.

At this distance, the Force feels far away from Ren. It’s impossible to feel what Hux is feeling, to hear what Hux hears.

“You call me Ren now and Supreme Leader in public? What sort of married couple are we?”

Hux raises a brow. “The professional kind,” he says. “I thought you wanted to be shown respect. Perhaps I thought wrong.” He smiles tightly.

Ren sighs.

Hux’s eyes are clear but tired.

“Do you remember what happened last night?” Ren tries.

Hux blinks. “We drank. To celebrate.”

“And then…?”

“And then I woke up in bed at the proper time and prepared for my shift.”

Ren studies him. 

Hux is impassive. No telling if he speaks the truth—and he drank so much, the memory loss is probable—or if he lies.

“Was that why you called me to my office?”

“No. Why are you making me look over these things. Shouldn’t that be your job?” Ren shoves the datapad back at Hux, jabbing it against his chest.

Hux releases a puff of pained air. Millicent’s claws tighten their grip on his coat.

Ren’s eyes widen. Already, he’s forgotten the injuries. He curses himself.

But Hux takes the datapad and flicks through it, going through the requests himself. As if Ren had not hurt him again.

“I’m sorry—“ Ren tries.

Hux holds up a hand. “Don’t be. You’ve kept your word.”

To never hurt him with the  _ Force _ .

“Is there anything I can do?” Ren asks. _For you._ _To make it up to you. To show you I didn’t mean it. To show you we can work together._

Something sparks in Hux’s eyes. “Well, there will be a diplomatic mission in two cycles. If you could attend as the new Supreme Leader, that would be useful for us.”

Ren sighs. “Snoke never went on diplomatic mission and you were content with having him rule from the shadows.”

“Yes, and see how well that went,” Hux says. He sits down wearily. The ysalamir shuts its eyes in contentment. He leans his head on his hand. “Ren, you know how Snoke supplied us with finances, right?”

“Yeah.”

Hard not to know of Snoke’s riches when the man was set on flaunting it at every occasion.

“After his…” Hux frowns. “…death, we’ve been trying to locate the source of his funds to no avail. We need supporters. Donors.”

“We’re out of money? Already?” It’s only been a few cycles since Ren claimed the title of Supreme Leader. What the kriff was the First Order doing? Burning credits for the fun of it?

“You should sit,” Hux says, gesturing to the free seat in front of him.

Ren does so. Cautiously. “Our credits, Hux. What’s happened to them?”

“Snoke would pay when necessary for weaponry and ships. After the loss of Starkiller and the waste of ammunitions at Crait—“

Ren stands so quickly, he knocks back his chair. “You call it a waste?” he roars, fire burning where blood should flow. Anger overtakes him. And then he remembers.

He drops his hand. 

He hadn’t noticed he raised it to begin with.

Hux watches him. He shakes his head slowly. “Nevermind. I’ll oversee the diplomatic mission in your place.”

“Hux—“

“If that is all, may I be dismissed?”

Ren nods, unable to find any words.

Hux leaves his own office, not even looking at Ren when he passes. Their shoulders don’t brush—it’s like an ocean has formed between them, impossible to cross.

When Hux slides the door shut, Ren collapses in a chair.

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. He’s fucked up again.

*

In two cycles, the Finalizer floats above Naboo. It feels like a sick joke of some kind.

Ren stares out of the transparisteel window within his shared quarters taking the planet and its vitality once more before going to the fresher, where Hux has locked himself up for the past half hour.

He knocks harshly. “Hux, what the kriff are you doing in there? We need to talk.”

Hux sighs. The door opens.

Ren falls quiet.

Hux wears a gold trimmed general’s uniform and perfectly polished boots, Millicent draped across his shoulders. But that’s not what draws him in: it’s the loose hair and careful application of cosmetics.

He looks healthy.

More than that, he looks  _ pretty. _

Ren blinks. 

“Well, what is it?” Hux says, crossing his arms over his shoulders. He scowls. “I haven’t got all day, Ren.”

Ren scowls right back. “Why are we over Naboo.”

Hux sighs. “If you read any of the reports I sent you, you would know.” He shakes his head and sighs again. “We are to meet with some of the well-off families of this world. They reached out to High Command, wanting to sponsor the First Order’s efforts.”

“But Naboo,” Ren says. Home of grandmother, place where Darth Vader married her. A place of happiness for them both. “Isn’t it a supporter of the Republic?”

Hux can’t hold back a smirk. “Well, isn’t it a good thing that Starkiller wiped out the New Republic, then?”

Ren shakes his head. Politics. He’d never been interested in it.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll make my way to transport,” Hux says. He begins to walk away from Ren, the sliver of space between them far too much.

“Wait,” Ren says, reaching out to catch Hux’s hand.

Hux pauses, watching him.

Ren doesn’t let go of Hux’s hand. It’s ungloved as of yet. Warm. “Have you eaten today?” he asks.

“No, not yet. I’m to meet with dignitaries over a meal,” Hux says. His face sours, lips turning down in a frown. 

“You should eat,” Ren says. His thumb brushes the skin of Hux’s hand, feeling rough, dry uneven skin underhand. His brows furrow. He turns over Hux’s hand.

Pale lines mar the palm of his hand. Scars.

Ren never thought Hux would have scars.

He was wrong about Hux. Once again.

Hux snatches his hand back, Millicent wobbling with the jerky motion. “I’ll eat, if it pleases you, Supreme Leader.”

“Just call me Ren,” Ren says.  _ Kylo, even,  _ he wants to say.

Hux grits his teeth, nodding stiffly.

They each eat a ration bar. Ren doesn’t taste it. His mind churns. 

Hux has his own gravity field and he’s pulling Ren in. Soon, Ren will crash and burn.

*

Ren stands on the Bridge, watching Naboo down below.

Hux had departed with a small contingency of officers and Stormtroopers. It’s been three hours.

Ren tries to imagine what they’re doing now. Naboo has always been extravagant—filled with beautiful things of all kinds. Hux would fit in, as long as he didn’t scowl so much.

“Sir,” Mitaka says, pulling his collar away from his throat.

“What is it?” Ren says.

Mitaka steals himself, taking a breath. He tries to think some thoughts to give him resolve. Ren almost laughs at that.

“We have lost communication with General Hux, sir,” Mitaka says. He presses his hands together, fingers locking together to a painful degree. “We believe that the diplomatic mission has been compromised.”

Ren nods. “Very well.” He walks away.

“Supreme Leader,” Mitaka calls after him, taking two nervous steps forwards. “What shall we do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Mitaka repeats, eyes wide with horror. “Sir, forgive me for speaking out of turn, but General Hux is an asset to the First Order. We wouldn’t be—“

Ren holds up a hand, not to use the Force, but merely to silence the man.

The whole Bridge falls quiet, watching, listening, to their Supreme Leader’s next move.

“Prepare my ship. I’m going after him myself.”

*

He takes a squadron of Stormtroopers, only at the insistence of Lieutenant Thanisson. The Stormtroopers stand within the Silencer, holding onto whatever they can to stay upright.

It doesn’t matter.

He’ll find Hux. Bring him home.

It’s the least he can do for his  _ spouse. _

The Silencer’s pilot takes them to the planet’s surface, where Hux had been welcomed with open hours prior. Ren wonders what changed, if it was a ruse all along. He wishes he could feel Hux through the Force.

But at least that meant that Millicent was fine.

Ren is the first out of the ship, pushing past upset dignitaries in bright clothing. “Where is he?” he growls.

They flinch.

One of the dignitaries, a woman with long, black hair pinned atop her head in complicated braids tries for a small, reassuring smile. “Supreme Leader Ren, we were not aware that you would be joining us—”

Ren pulls out his lightsaber, turning it on.

If the dignitaries hadn’t been shuddering, they are now.

“Where. Is. General Hux?” Ren spits. “My husband.”

“Ah,” the woman says faintly. Her head grows light. “General Hux has been kidnapped by Resistance.”

“By Resistance,” he repeats, with a bark. “The handful of them that are left?”

She nods rapidly. “There was a girl. Three buns. A blue lightsaber—”

“Where did they go?” Ren says, teeth clicking together. If he exerts any more pressure, he is sure his teeth will break. But the Scavenger girl is on the planet.

The woman sputters, unhelpful in the slightest. At his side, the Stormtroopers twitch, readjusting their weapons. Perhaps that gives the dignitary more incentive to help.

“They went towards the Gallo Mountains. I swear to you, if I knew more, I would supply you with the information,” the woman chokes out. She looks at Ren’s lightsaber, her narrow face bathed in red light.

“Very well,” Ren says, turning the lightsaber off and clipping it to his belt.

He can find the Resistance.

And with them, he can find Hux.

They reboard the Silencer, where the pilot waits nervously. He holds his helmet in his hands, pale as one can get. “Supreme Leader, sir, you’ve a call from High Command.”

Ren sighs. Of course he does.

He hates High Command already.

He receives it in his private chambers on the ship, the High Command’s pale faces flickering in stark contrast to the dark wall.

“Supreme Leader Ren,” the one in the center says in greeting. He bears a smile. “We’ve heard that you are on Naboo after the Resistance fiasco.”

“Yes. I will retrieve General Hux.”

All of High Command speaks at once.

Ren waits, unimpressed by the display of childishness. Huh. He never thought he would say that.

“You should not retrieve the General,” one of the men of High Command says, pale face flushing a bright red. “As Supreme Leader, you’re much too valuable to be sent on ground missions by yourself. Besides by now he must have been compromised.”

_ Bastard, _ the man thinks.  _ The bastard got too close to the Supreme Leader. It’s good he dies so quickly after. Serves him right for stealing— _

Hux.

The man thinks of Hux.

Ren’s husband. His co-commander of five years.

A man who worked tirelessly for the First Order.

Ren raises his hand, squeezing his fist shut. “Careful, Grand Admiral. Such treasonous thoughts you have.”

The man gasps, clutching at his throat. He plucks at his collar, to no avail.

The other members of High Command look on. They think of Vader.

Ren lets go, the Grand Admiral falling to his hands and knees. He takes a moment to breathe, simply breathe, mind gone blank.

“You’ll apologize to Hux when I bring him back,” Ren says. He shuts off the Holo-Projection and storms out of the room.

*

Ren shuts his eyes and simply  _ feels _ .

The scavenger girl is out there. Hurt. Frustrated. 

Hux put up a fight, it seems. But now he and Millicent are either out of range or separated.

Ren will see soon enough.

He opens his eyes, a dozen helmets looking away. They had been staring--at him, their new Supreme Leader, at the scar on his face. They are afraid. But they want their General back.

Ren can leave that be.

He too wants his General back.

He leads the way out of the Silencer, ready for what is to come.

The Gallo Mountains chain is green, vibrant and bright. So very filled with life.

"First Order!" someone calls, hidden poorly behind a boulder.

Shots ring out.

Ren holds out his hand, freezing blaster bolts in place.

His Stormtroopers don't hesitate to fall out, with their Supreme Leader protecting them.

Resistance scum fall like flies.

Ren steps over their bodies, the blaster bolts flying free, no longer held in place by the Force. He reaches out,  _ feels _ for--

Rey is further along the mountain. She's looking for Hux. Hux has escaped her grasp, stealing a blaster and getting a shot in first.

Ren smirks. He expects nothing less from his husband.

He pulls out his lightsaber and spins it.

They're not done yet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you once again to ee-void for beta-ing!
> 
> warning for the chapter: violence à la typical Star Wars fashion within first segment (see bottom notes for spoilery warning)

Rey. Her hair pulled loose from her buns, obscuring part of her face. Her pants are ripped at the knee, blood soaking the fabric. When she sees him, she bares her teeth and withdraws her saber, screaming a warcry.

He rushes to meet her, batting at her lightsaber with his own.

"Monster!" she yells at him. It's nothing new. She's hurt, and it whips at him like another weapon.

At least now she knows what he is, no hesitation about her.

She can't  _ save _ him. No one can. There is nothing to be saved.

Rey burns brightly, teetering on the edge of Light and Dark. She doesn't see it, doesn't see how her hatred fuels her. How easily she can fall from her fragile perch.

It's enough to make him smile.

"Where is Hux?" Ren says. Calmly. 

She sputters, pulling away, a fresh wave of anger bursting from her. She spins, aiming low.

Ren jumps back, cloak barely avoiding being singed.

Rey attacks--again and again and again.

He fends her off. He has the upper hand--more training, more experience... And he hasn't been shot at.

Skin gives way underneath the pressure of his lightsaber. Rey stumbles back, clutching at the stump of her arm, eyes blown wide open. Pain congeals alongside of anger--hurt, magnified by the bond they once shared.

A ship drops from hyperspace. Ren looks up, mouth falling open.

The Millenium Falcon hangs in the sky. The noise--

"Sir!" one of his Stormtroopers calls before the Millenium Falcon shoots. They don't dare to shoot at Ren, with Rey so near. But the Stormtroopers are of no concern, half of the squadron blasted to bits.

Rey looks at him and then away. She runs.

Maybe before he would have been angry at that. When Snoke forged a bond between them, kept them in a strange orbit around one another. But now... He can't care.

His priority is Hux. 

Hux.

Ren continues on, the remaining Stormtroopers following behind him. They're nervous. Afraid.

The Millenium Falcon will come back to kill them. But only after picking Rey up.

The traitor pilots the ship, his heart beating,  _ Rey Rey Rey. _

Ren clambers into a cave and feels the Force leave him. He can't help but smile. Where Millicent is, there is a chance of Hux being there too.

"Freeze," Hux says, pushing himself from behind a stalagmite. He holds a blaster, inches from Ren's nose. His eyes are wild, lips bloodied. At his feet is a hissing Millicent.

"Hux. There you are," Ren says.

Hux swallows, putting down the pilfered blaster. It's silver. A distinctive shape. He'd seen Rey with it before and Han Solo before her. Now Hux. 

Hux has lost his coat, sometime between his departure to Naboo and this rescue. He looks unimpressed and unhappy at the sight of his hero.

Ren could almost laugh.

Instead he takes the blaster and tosses it aside.

"Come on," Ren says. "We don't have much time until the Millenium Falcon comes back to take another shot at us."

Hux huffs, going so far as to roll his eyes, but follows Ren out of the cave. His hand goes to his side, glove gone missing somewhere.

The Stormtroopers salute Hux once he joins them, out in the open air.

Hux grimaces slightly. It might have been a smile.

"PT-0015, you take Millicent," Ren orders, a hand hovering over the small of Hux's back. Hux trembles, the wind cutting right through him.

"Yes sir," the Stormtrooper says, saluting him once more. They bend, picking up Millicent much like one would hold a baby. Millicent doesn't quite enjoy that, squirming in their arms.

Ren leads the way, towards the Silencer and the pilot they'd left behind.

Hux falters, his heartbeat erratic. Pain seeps from him, from his fiercely grit teeth.

Ren moves his hand, to Hux's side, covering Hux's own hand. Warm wetness greets him with a shock.

"You're bleeding," Ren says.

Hux pales, inhale breaking off in half. His heartbeat quickens. "I can walk," he says.

Ren looks at the sky overhead. Stormclouds gather.

It's an omen, if he's ever seen one.

"Here," Ren says, easily lifting Hux into his arms. He carries him like a blushing bride, one arm wrapped around Hux's slender shoulders and another arm tucked underneath Hux's knees. It's hard not to aggravate injuries--both old and new--but he tries. "I'll carry you."

Hux frowns, but doesn't fight it. "Just... Get to the ship," he says tightly. He's wound with nerves, being so close to Ren.

He thinks about sending the six remaining Stormtroopers to reconditioning after. Loyalty and appearance on the mind.

Seven hearts beat in unison, each loyal to their General.

*

Hux is dismissed from Medbay, with a bactapatch pressed onto his side, covering a graze left by a blaster bolt that dared to fly too close. Ren can feel as he walks empty corridors.

Ren lies in his bed, much too big, much too lonely, a hand stretched out to rest on the other pillow.

He enters their shared quarters, door sliding shut behind him.

Ren waits, listening to Hux's footfalls within the living space.

Then. Silence.

The door to Ren's bedroom slides open, a sliver of light crossing Ren's eye.

Hux stands there, hair illuminated like fire. Wordlessly, he creeps across the cold, steel floor, standing before Ren's bed.

Ren watches him quietly, as Hux's trembling hands push aside the sheets. He crawls into bed, facing away from Ren, cacooning himself in borrowed blankets.

He spends a long time simply staring at the nape of Hux's neck.

*

In the morning, Hux offers no explanation for the behavior last night. In fact, he pretends it's normal, it's expected. 

Ren can't wrap his mind around it.

They sit across from one another at the kitchen table, Hux sipping at a cup of Tarine tea. Ren stares, at Hux's lips, at his bare hands, at the neatly filed nails. He commits this image--this overly domestic image--to memory.

"Ren," Hux says, voice thick with sleep. He looks slightly rumpled, sleep lines pressed deep into the skin of his cheek. "What is the status of the treaty with those Nabooian families."

He blinks. "I don't know," Ren dismisses.  

"You didn't think to ask?" Hux says. He sneers in contempt. Thinks he would have done a better job.

Ren couldn't think when Hux was stolen away. Everything about him had thought  _ Hux Hux Hux _ and came up with absurd visions of what could have happened.

With the flesh and blood Hux in front of him and as unimpressed as ever, Ren wonders what he had even missed.

Hux sighs, seeing that he's not getting an answer anytime soon. "I'll catch up on paperwork then. I'll send Mitaka your regards." He sips the last of the tea, placing the empty cup back onto the table for a cleaning droid to get to eventually.

Ren watches him go, the door sliding shut behind the tail of Hux's coat. He reaches out, picking up Hux's cup with both his hands. Slowly, reverently, he presses the rim of the cup to his lips, as he had seen Hux do earlier.

It feels almost like a kiss.

Ren shuts his eyes, ignoring the beating of his heart.

*

Ren sits on his throne, staring out at the expanse of space.

"Supreme Leader," Hux says, letting himself into the Throne Room, a datapad tucked underneath his arm. He crosses the distance between them, boots loud in the vacuum. Millicent rides on his shoulders, her tongue poking out from between her lips. "Our latest reports."

Ren takes the datapad from Hux, their hands brushing.

"Thanks," Ren says, flipping it on. 

Hux doesn't leave though. He just stands there, a furrow between his brows.

"What is it?" Ren asks.

"High Command wants for us-- for you to appear at--"

Ren rolls his eyes, scoffing already. Appear at a Gala, surely. Some meaningless party with airheads on parade, decked out in their best finery.

Hux clears his throat. "To appear at the trial of some captured Resistance members," he says, pretending as if he had not been interrupted to begin with. "It's mostly ceremonial, but it will be broadcast to the Galaxy. A lesson, of sorts, I suspect."

"Who's up on trial?" Ren asks. He leans his cheek against his fist, mind turning. Why would High Command want this? 

Snoke never watched over matters of the judiciary system.

"General Organa is one of those captured by the First Order." Hux watches him carefully, pale eyes unreadable.

Ren grips the arms of his throne, metal bending to his will. He carves grooves into it, jaw locked. "What? Do they think of me so little?" Ren grits, leaping to his feet.

He paces the length of his throne room, coming to a stop before one of the floor length windows.

"Do they question my loyalty?" Ren grinds out. "I've listened to their thoughts. They have no loyalty in them."

Hux blinks, eyes staying shut for a beat too long. He's grinding his teeth together, by the small jerks of his jaw, the tension in his face.

Ren turns on him, cocking his head. "Has High Command said anything else to you?"

Hux composes himself. It takes a fraction of a second. Impressive. "Nothing of note."

He quirks a brow. "So they said something."

Hux sighs.

"You can share."

"They reminded me of my parentage, simply, and how unusual it is for me to marry a person of your rank." Hux says it too casually to be true. He hurts. He must hurt.

Ren's hands itch, wishing someone's throat was held there, preferably someone of High Command. (And, if not, then perhaps Mitaka would do.)

"What shall I tell High Command?" Hux asks.

That Leia Organa was  _ his _ and  _ his alone? _

Or to deal with the more hidden challenge?

That Hux's lineage didn't matter? That he would always be a thousand times better than the aged, weak men who cling to power? That Ren wishes to take away anything that pains Hux?

"I'll contact them myself," Ren finally decides.

Hux nods his ascent.

*

The Finalizer and the fleet of ships it travels with drops out of hyperspace above Scarif. The trial will be held there, with the Supremacy destroyed and Starkiller Base gone. 

His mother already waits, probably chained, in some damp cell.

Ren shuts his eyes and takes a breath. If anything, the minds of the High Command are weak and easily suggestable. Hux is the only one of them with anything special, anything that differentiates him from the group.

The ship lands, his ears popping with the shift in pressure.

Outside, on Scarif's shores, the sun shines overhead. It's a bright, summery day, salty breezes buffeting Ren's cloak. His boots sink into sand. Far too cheerful for what will happen.

Hux joins him, the breeze ruffling his hair free from the restrictive gel. 

Ren turns his head to the side, watching Hux as Hux watches him.

Hux presses his lips into a fine line. "Supreme Leader, are you ready?" Millicent is calm upon his shoulders.

"As ready as I'll ever get," Ren mutters.

He leads the way to one of the low-ceilinged buildings, relics of the Empire transformed into something new. Beige. Worn down by sea salt air. Together with the palm trees and the sounds of wildlife, it could almost be a vacation for the two of them.

Hux, perhaps misunderstanding the beat of silence, goes to open the door for Ren.

Ren walks in, allowing Hux to think himself as doing a favor for him.

"Supreme Leader," an officer in beige greets, snapping to attention. "We've been expecting you."

Not that particular officer, actually. He had anticipated nothing but relaxation on this easy, peaceful post. He may actually piss himself in terror before his Supreme Leader and General.

"At ease," Ren says.

"General Hux," the officer greets, much too late, saluting once more. "It's good to see you again, sir."

Hux smiles tightly. "Lieutenant Armand. Will you bring us to High Command?"

Lieutenant Armand lets out a small gasp, like he hadn't realized the purpose behind their visitation. It almost makes Ren want to throttle the man. Almost.

"Of course, sirs," Armand says. "Please follow me."

He's a short fellow, but he walks quickly. Ren and Hux follow him down the hall, so close together that their shoulders brush.

Armand slides a door open, those pasty, sagging men that call themselves the High Command already waiting, sitting in high chairs. Across them, cuffed to a chair, is none other than Leia Organa, no less regal than ever.

Ren puts his gloved hand over the small of Hux's back, more to steady himself than Hux. He takes comfort in the warmth under hand, in the humanity he's found in another.

The entirety of High Command rises to their feet as Armand excuses himself.

"Supreme Leader," one greets, narrowing his eyes at Hux. "Are you prepared to execute justice?"

Ren's mouth dries. "Execute justice?" he repeats. "What of the trial?"

Leia rolls her eyes. "First Order scum doesn't know the first thing about justice--"

Hux grits his teeth. "What is the meaning of this all then?" he bites.

The ceremony of it all. Having Ren here to witness it.

Perhaps truly just a test.

Ren has had enough of those.

"Organa has been judged guilty on many counts," one of the Admirals wheezes out, pressing his palm against his chest. "She should be sentenced now, Supreme Leader. Perhaps death would be fitting."

Death.

His mother shifts in her chair, wrists chafing under Force-nulling handcuffs.

He cannot kill her, he realizes all at once. He remembers her gentle hands, pulling his hair into Alderaanian braids. Kisses against his cheeks, forehead. Her sending him away, saying it's for the best. 

He can't do it.

"If you kill her, she becomes a martyr," Hux snipes.

Contempt sweeps the room, all at once. The High Command wears their masks well, their microexpressions kept neutral.

Ren doesn't look at his mother. "General Hux is right," he says. "Life in prison, at the very most. In a classified facility to keep Organa safe. That's my final decision."

He sends them all a seering look.

Nearby, Leia's heart breaks, seeing her son so close and yet so far away.

*

Ren finds himself alone, between the tropical trees of Scarif. Nearby, on Scarif’s surface, a section of planet bears a scar, land blasted to nothingness. The scar is deeper than just physical, it echoing in the Force.

Deep, deep, deep.

_ Look for the Force and you'll always find me. _

A deep echoing sadness, and hope sparking amongst it.

The Rebellian. They'd been here years prior.

He closes his fists, leather of his gloves creaking. The past cannot be killed in the way he wanted it to be. The past's ghosts still linger, in the most unexpected areas.

"There you are," Hux says behind him.

Ren turns, taking all of him in.

Hux has changed into a beige uniform, something more common on Scarif. He's forgone the greatcoat, but not Millicent, who huddles close to his neck. Sweat beads along his forehead.

Ren doesn't say anything, his throat drying up before he could even think a coherent string of words.

"They had General Organa in custody for several days now. They notified you late, Supreme Leader," Hux remarks. "I suppose... the Resistance's clumsy kidnapping makes sense now."

"Oh?" Ren lets out, barely a puff of air.

Hux looks towards the shore, where waves lap at sand. "They must have thought that the First Order would trade me for Organa." Hux laughs, shaking his head.

Ren frowns. "Why wouldn't we?"

"The First Order doesn't negotiate with terrorists. Unless it is for their unconditional surrender, Ren."

"So that's why you escaped on your own, rather than to wait for rescue?"

Hux doesn't look away from the ocean, the seafoam color reflected in his pale eyes. "You know what's funny?" he says, ignoring Ren's question. "Grand Admiral Morran apologized to me. Did you have something to do with that?"

Ren's face heats. "He... thought poorly of you. I taught him a lesson."

Hux clicks his tongue. "I'm afraid many of the older officers of the First Order aren't fond of me for reasons both valid and stupid."

Ren wets his lips, tasting salt. "I guess I'll have to teach them all a lesson," he says dryly.

Hux allows a smile to creep across his face. "Whatever for?"

Ren looks at him, really looks at him--at how relaxed his face has gone, at how the wind blows through his hair, freeing it from the gel he uses. "You are the husband of their Supreme Leader," he says. "They need to learn respect."

Hux nods to himself. Millicent shifts on his shoulders. If a lizard could give the stink-eye, Ren would say that was exactly what the ysalamir was doing. 

Did he answer wrong?

"Well, if you'll excuse me, Supreme Leader, I will return to our transport," Hux says.

"No, wait." Ren takes two step forwards, bridging the gap between them. "I... want you to be respected by High Command. Because of your accomplishments and merit. Not our marriage."

Hux waits, head tilted to the side. Interested in his words. "Careful Ren. It sounds like you've grown attached."

Ren doesn't deny it.

Some kind of understanding lights Hux's eyes.

Then, slowly, as though moving through molasses, Hux approaches Ren, hovering mere inches away. At this distance, Ren can smell him--the standard soap that the First Order provides, pomade, his favorite cologne, sweat. 

Ren raises a hand, thumb tracing the outline of his jaw.

Taking this for a good sign, Hux leans in, his lips brushing Ren's own.

Electricity flows through his entire being, his entire soul.

Ren traces Hux's bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, Hux opening his mouth to kiss back. He tastes of bitter tea, Ren thinks, but he refuses to pull away. Closer, closer, closer, he wraps his arm around Hux's waist.

Hux blocks his head in with his hands, tugging at the long, dark locks.

They break apart only for air, Hux's hot breath against Ren's cheek.

Behind him, the sun on Scarif sets.

Ren's breath is stolen away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoilery warning: Kylo and Rey fight. Rey loses a hand.


	5. Chapter 5

Their return to the Finalizer came too early for Ren. He wishes for another day on the shores of Crait with Hux, with the warm, balmy breeze rustling their clothing and the ocean lapping at their booted feet. He wishes for more time with just the two of them--time to reassess their relationship, time for them to relax.

(Time for Hux to lounge on the beaches with only swimming trunks on. Ren wonders if he would freckle across his shoulders.)

It's almost saddening, readjusting to the Finalizer's artificial climate.

Hux returns to the Bridge, overseeing the hive of officers. Ren trails behind him, lips kiss-swollen and skin sun-kissed.

Hux has changed into his normal uniform, the plain black set and greatcoat. Ren misses seeing his lines, especially when Hux bends over a console, looking over what an officer is showing him.

Hux nods, a smile coming naturally to his face. He speaks, and Ren reads his lips.

"Excellent," Hux had said, with his clipped accent and some warmth. "I shall relay the news to our Supreme Leader."

Ren watches as Hux sends a quizzical look, already marching towards Ren's position beside the viewports.

"Supreme Leader," Hux says, barely holding back enthusiasm. Millicent squirms over his shoulders, her tail brushing his collar. "I am pleased to say that Snoke's assets have successfully been located."

"That's wonderful," Ren manages. No more schmoozing with the stupidly wealthy of the Galaxy. They can simply focus on the task ahead: wiping out the Resistance for good.

Hux runs his tongue along his bottom lip. Why? Ren doesn't know. He wishes it's to taste some remnant of their second kiss.

He pulls out a datapad, opening the budget sheets. Hux holds it out towards Ren, craning his neck to still see. It doesn't look comfortable.

Ren inches closer, slotting himself beside Hux. He wraps an arm across Hux's waist, feeling the delicate ribcage beneath his hand.

"How shall we allocate the newly found funds, sir?" Hux asks.

Ren doesn't know the first thing about budgets and economics. He knows of the Force--through the teachings of two Masters--and he knows of politics, through following Leia as a child. And he knows of battle, tactics, the like from experience.

If Hux had asked about funding previously, Ren would have taken it as an insult.

But Hux is close and warm, his lashes fluttering when he blinks, and emotions swell, drowning Ren. It may well be a ploy. Ren falls for it anyway.

"Allocate them as you see fit," he says, pressing his cheek to Hux's neck.

"Very well," Hux manages, warmth blossoming across his cheeks.

None of the officers dare to bring up the display of public affection. In fact, they pretend not to see it at all.

Which is fine by Ren.

It simply means he has Hux all to himself.

*

Ren sits on his throne, staring out into empty space. The stars twinkle and burn, some dying and some being born at the very moment. It makes him sentimental, all of it.

It should bother him, this attachment to his spouse.

But it doesn't.

He thinks of their kisses, Hux's lips against his own, Hux's fingers through his hair. Hux, curling close in the middle of the night. (He sleeps like a child, knees against his chest, arms covering his torso. He sleeps deeply, quietly, a sleep that would have made anyone think he was innocent and not a destroyer of worlds. How Ren loves him.)

It doesn't take much time for Ren to think of something--some sort of reward for Hux for being... well, Hux, in all things.

He hadn't asked for a promotion, not in all the time that Kylo Ren was Supreme Leader, not even as some sort of gift or condition of their union. But he had wanted one. Questioned Snoke about it. And was denied several times.

Ren had taken pleasure in all those rejections then.

But now...

Ren hasn't a clue what a Grand Marshal really is but a fancy title for a paperpusher, but if Hux wanted it, he would have it.

He submits the paperwork in a moment and receives a quick response from Hux.

_Attn: Supreme Leader Ren_

_What the kriff?_

Ren smiles fondly at the screen. This, this he'd missed.

Hux comes into the throne room moments later, coat missing, Millicent on her favorite perch. "Ren," he says, breathless. Had he ran to the throne room? Ren couldn't picture it. "Are you truly promoting me to Grand Marshal? Do you--"

"It's the position you have basically occupied during most of Snoke's reign, as you have mentioned often yourself," Ren says casually, standing from his throne. "You deserve to officially have the title."

Hux's lips quirk into a smile. Wordlessly he approaches Ren, wrapping his arms around Ren's shoulders.

A hug, Ren realizes after a moment, moving his arms to return the gesture. He kisses the side of Hux's head, lips brushing his hair.

The galaxy is almost theirs. They'll rule it.

Together.

*

During their rest cycle, Hux does not actually rest. He sits in bed, blankets pooling around his waist, the pale blue light of his datapad reflecting off the high points of his face in the dark bedroom. Millicent snuggles under the crook of his arm.

Ren simply lies on his side, an arm tucked underneath his head. Watching. He could watch this forever, this contentment he's snatched for himself despite everything.

"What are you doing?" Ren asks, cutting through the silence.

"Ordering a new uniform," Hux answers.

Ren squints his eyes, trying to get a glimpse at the screen.

Hux hands him the datapad, rolling his eyes.

The uniform is _white_ \--not the blacks, greys, and teals Ren is accustomed to--and more than that, it comes with a cape. Ren traces the cuff markings with a finger. Three black bands, accentuated with gold piping.

"Do you approve, Supreme Leader?" Hux asks teasingly.

Ren reaches up, brushing Hux's hair away from his eyes. "You'll cut an imposing figure. I'm at your service."

Hux takes the datapad off, turning it off before placing it on the nightstand, plunging the room in darkness.

Ren can make out the shape of him even then, his even breaths, his warmth.

"Shouldn't it be the other way around, Ren?" Hux asks, curling on his side, facing Ren. Millicent protests, making a shrill hissing noise.

Ren leans closer, pressing open mouthed kisses to Hux's face--his chin, his cheeks, his nose. All his. His fierce, capable Grand Marshal.

"You should call me Kylo," Ren says.

Hux hums. "Kylo." It sounds right. "My first name is... Armitage." He wrinkles his nose in distaste. Not fond of the name. He opens his mouth, as to give some excuse, to put down his own name, something.

"Armitage," Ren repeats, cutting him off, closing the distance between their mouths.

Ren has drowned. And he doesn't care.

*

The Finalizer leads the way, cutting through hyperspace. And when they exit the jump, they lead the battle against the paltry remnants of the Resistance and what few allies they could gather.

It's pitiful, how they've faltered without Organa to lead them.

Hux look back at him, over a white cloaked shoulder, Millicent's claws dragging through his cape.

Ren nods.

"Fire on the Millenium Falcon! On my mark," Hux says, pointing with a finger.

Ren's pulse pounds in his ears.

Hux's lips move. Ren doesn't hear a word. Ringing drowns it all out.

The Millenium Falcon is hit. Critically. It falls, like a shooting star, with a collision course with Jakku.

The scavenger girl is inside, desperately trying to do something, anything to prevent their crash. The traitor thinks of how beautiful Rey is, how right it is that if this is his last moment, then Rey is the last thing he sees.

Ren swallows. Blinks.

The ships that had been gathered, supporting the Falcon against the First Order, loses what courage they had. One by one, they run--abandoning the Resistance and everything they stand for.

 _Once stood for_ , he realizes.

Ren leaves the Bridge, not hearing the polite applause of officers, cheering a war well won.

*

Ren drinks what little is left of the Nabooian wine, straight from the bottle. He doesn't taste it, just feels it slide down his throat.

He should be happy. He's gotten everything he wanted: the destruction of the past, the Galaxy at his boot and heel, the victory over all who've done him wrong. And besides that, he had a spouse. He had someone who genuinely loved _him_.

(More than what Ben ever had.)

Ren finishes the bottle, tossing it aside. It shatters when it hits the durasteel floor, glass exploding onto the floor.

The door slides open, Hux entering, Millicent snoozing on his shoulders. He pauses, eyes flickering from Ren's face to the shards of glass on the floor. Sighing, he pulls out a datapad.

He probably calls for a mousedroid to come and sweep up the mess. That's the responsible, Hux-like thing to do.

"Ren," Hux says, taking a step forwards. His booted feet crush fragments of the bottle. "Kylo... What’s the matter?"

"Nothing," Kylo hisses. "Everything." He tears his hands through his hair, relishing the pricks of pain against his scalp. He should be happy. He should be happy.

He presses his palms to his eyes until he sees stars against the dark of eyelids--from small pinpricks of light to supernovae and all the stars in between.

Hux walks closer, footsteps grinding down the shards. Slowly, he wraps his arms around Ren's waist, pulling him close. The hug is loose, one Ren can break at any time. One that gives him options.

Ren leans against Hux's front, simply taking in the other man's warmth.

"We'll figure things out together," Hux offers after a beat of silence, showing no sign of letting go. "For now, we may well celebrate. Your enemies are gone, Supreme Leader. The Galaxy is yours to do as you see fit."

Ren removes his hands from his face, vision swimming.

Hux takes it as a good sign. "We'll make you a crown, one fit of your title and your power. Perhaps with kyber crystals inlain?"

Ren's shoulders slump. Everything suddenly feels heavier, like the gravity has increased around them. Like this reality has finally caught up with him.

What has he done?

"I want to go to sleep," Ren says quietly.

Hux pauses. He opens his lips then closes them, a puff of hot air against Kylo's jaw. It's nowhere near their recommended rest cycle.

"Alright," Hux says, letting go and taking a step away.

Ren almost regrets saying so, missing the warmth of another human being. He walks to their bedroom, collapsing above the sheets without another thought.

Gingerly, the bed dips beside him. Hux. And Millicent.

Hux doesn't say a word, just removes Ren's worn-down shoes and other garments, putting them neatly away. Ren cooperates, barely, lifting what limb Hux takes.

Finally, Hux pulls the sheets out from under him, tossing them atop his nude form.

Hux sighs, pushing back his hair. "Millicent," he says, picking up the ysalamir and dumping her on Ren's chest, "will keep an eye on you while I take a sonic."

The ysalamir has gained weight, with Hux spoiling the creature rotten with the freshest, sweetest fruit rations the Finalizer acquires.

She looks at Ren, sticking out a longue tongue and hissing. Never would he have thought a lizard capable of being smug.

Hux leans down, smoothing hair away from Ren's forehead, replacing it with a kiss. "Be good," he instructs.

Ren frowns. "I'm your Supreme Leader. I'm the one who should be giving orders around here."

Hux folds his hands in front of him. "Of course," he says, skin creasing in between his brows. "But as spouse to the Supreme Leader, I think I can be afforded some special privileges."

Ren laughs, deep and rumbling. "Does it now?

Hux hushes him. "Lights, 20%. Go to sleep, Kylo. We'll talk once you wake up."

Like a balm, Hux's words soothe him. He doesn't know when but he'd been tamed by soft hands and sweet lips, brought back from the brink of collapse.

"Good night," Ren echoes, as Hux leaves the room.

*

Ren doesn't dream during the rest cycle. Not really.

He wakes, feeling like a weight has been lifted from his chest.

Bundled in blankets beside him is Hux, face slack with sleep. His eyes move underneath his eyelids, caught in the middle of his REM cycle. He's dreaming.

Ren wonders just what Hux dreams about, reaching out, his fingers brushing Hux's cheek.

And at the foot of the bed is Millicent, curled up beside their feet. She snores, if that's even possible. Startlingly loudly.

It should be concerning.

Instead, it just feels... domestic.

Ren stares at Hux, unable to look away. It feels real and unreal all at once. He decides not to think of it, to return to sleep until Hux's early cycle alarm wakes them both up.

Hux would know what to do. He always does.

It's part of what makes Ren love him.

*

Hux leads him through the halls of the Finalizer, one hand in the nook of Ren's elbow. Millicent stares at him with her unblinking blue eyes, slowly sticking out her tongue, tasting the air.

Ren allows himself to be led, past countless assembled officers, Stormtroopers, those who serve the First Order in all stripes.

It was time for his coronation, albeit a little late.

The throne room's doors are wide open, holorecorders hovering in the air, taking in every inch of him and displaying him to the Galaxy. As the regal and fierce Supreme Leader, Grand Marshal and spouse at his side.

When Ren sits on his throne and Hux takes his proper place at Ren's right hand, everything feels... right.

No struggle between Dark and Light. No recollection of a past that haunts him. Everything has settled--within the Force, within himself.

Captain Mitaka speaks but Ren hardly hears him and his high, lilting voice. He's saying some overly long spiel of Ren's virtues and skills, probably. Of his ties to Darth Vader and the Force.

Power, absolute.

Somewhere in the room, the surviving members of the High Command collectively touch their collars, loosening them against an invisible pressure.

Hux steps forwards and is given a crown of red kyber crystals. They glow within his gloved hands, bright light flickering against his pale face, bathing the white of his uniform in red.

Slowly, Hux turns back to Ren.

Ren leans forwards on the throne, hands coming on either side to rest against the throne's armrests.

Hux nestles the crown on top of Ren's coiffed hair.

"Long live the Supreme Leader," Hux says, Millicent joining in with a hiss.

"Long live the Supreme Leader," all of the First Order echoes.

Ren stares at Hux, the green of Hux's eyes, the pallor of his skin. The soft set to his mouth.

"Long live the Grand Marshal, the Supreme Leader's spouse," he adds.

Hux smiles, wryly, as all of the First Order echoes that back too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one last thank you to ee-void for beta-ing this fic!
> 
> This has been really fun for me to write, to play with what last jedi had to offer. thank you for reading and for your kind comments.  
> (The fates of Rey, Finn, and the other members of the Resistance are mostly left up to the reader. In my heart of hearts, I think they'd survive.)
> 
> you can find me at gaygalaxyguy.tumblr.com
> 
> lastly, ee-void drew fanart of this fic, found below:
> 
> http://ee-void.tumblr.com/post/170036038745/i-update-art-here-so-rarely-nowadays-that-i-guess

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at gaygalaxyguy.tumblr.com


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